CHAPTER XVII.
IN A FOOL'S PARADISE.
"The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows fu' weel; And mickle lighter is the boat When love bears up the creel."--_Old Song._
In the interests of truth, I have now to record that my hero, CaptainJack Mackenzie, formed one of the most ridiculous resolutions any youngman could have been guilty of making. It is all very well buildingcastles in the air--indeed, it is rather a pretty pastime thanotherwise, and may at times be productive of good; but when it comes tobuilding for one's self, willingly and with wide-open eyes, a wholeparadise--fool's, of course--and quietly taking up one's abode therein,the absurdity of the speculation must be apparent to every one.
But this is just what our Jack now set about doing. For many a longmonth back he had worked and slaved, and fought battles, and sailed hisship, and did all he could, it must be confessed, to make everybodyaround him happy, while a load of sorrow, which felt as big as a bag ofshrapnel or a kedge anchor, lay at his own heart. He now determined toget rid of this incubus, to leave it, or creep out from under itsomehow. During all these months he had tried, and tried hard, to forgethis lost love Gerty, but all in vain. Trying to forget her made mattersinfinitely worse, so now he meant to indulge himself in the sweet beliefthat she still was his, still loved him; that there was no suchindividual in the world as silly old Sir Digby; and that he, Jack, hadonly to go home, if it pleased Heaven to spare him, and claim the deargirl as his wife.
He certainly did not mean to force himself to think about her, only hewould do nothing to impede the flow of happy thoughts whenever theyshowed a tendency to come stealing over his soul. These are his ownwords, spoken to himself in the privacy of his state-room. And betweenyou and me and the binnacle, reader, not to let it go any further, Ibelieve it was poor Mary's letter, with its "dear luv" and its "sweetkisses," that was at the bottom of Jack's resolve. For had she notwritten, as plain as quill can write, the magical sentence, "Yes, missusmisses you; so do I"? It didn't matter a spoonful of tar about the "sodo I," but there was the "missus misses you." Ah! it was around thesesimple, euphonious words that hope hung like a garland of forget-me-not.Why did missus miss him? Mary wouldn't have said that missus missed himif missus didn't. So ran Jack's thoughts as he walked up and down thefloor of his cabin. No, Mary wasn't a girl of that sort. Missus missedhim, and there was an end of it. Missus missed him, _ergo_ missus mustsometimes think about him, and upon this belief he meant to hinge hishappiness. Missus must--
"Rat--tat--tat--tat."
"Come in. Ah, Tom, there you are! Glad you've come a little beforedinner is served. Well, we're all ready for sea, I suppose?"
"Yes; as soon as you like to-morrow morning, sir."
"Well, dowse the 'sir,' Tom, else I'll send you away without a morsel ofdinner. We're not on the quarter-deck now, you know. You're Tom, and I'mjust Jack."
A few minutes afterwards, Tom, strolling carelessly towards Jack'swriting-table, picked up a sheet of paper, and to his astonishment readas follows:--
"Missus missed thee, so do I, Drop the tear and sigh the sigh; Yet ne'er let sorrow cloud thy brow-- She loved thee once, she loves thee now."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Tom aloud.
Jack got as red as a tomato, and rushed to rescue the manuscript.
"Put it down at once, Tom! How dare you?"
But Tom only laughed the more. He read Jack's inspiration from end toend, in spite of all that Jack could do.
"Well," he said when he had finished, "I knew you could fight a bit, butthis is a revelation. 'Missus missed thee'--ha! ha! ha!"
It was well for Jack and Tom both that the steward and servants enteredat that moment with the dinner. Poetry soon gave place to soup, andsentiment fled on the appearance of the roast-beef.
But when dessert was placed upon the table, and the servants had gone,Jack, feeling bound to open his heart to somebody, told Tom about thefool's paradise to which he meant to flit from Castle Despair, in whichhe had dwelt so long.
Tom was a thoroughly practical kind of a young fellow, and now he shookhis head consideringly.
"M--m--m, well," he said, "the notion isn't half a bad one, you know,perhaps. But, Jack, doesn't it savour somewhat of the reckless? Scotsmenare all reckless, I know, especially, I believe, the Grant Mackenzies;and your idea may be good, but--a--"
"Well, well, Tom, out with it, man. What _are_ you humming and hawingabout?"
"Why, it's like this, you see--and, mind, I speak to you as abrother--it may be very pleasant, say, for a few friends met together totake an extra glass of wine, and spend a happy evening, but shouldn'tthey think of their heads in the morning?"
"I _have_ thought of my head in the morning, Tom; I _have_ thought ofthe awakening. I do know that some day I shall see an announcement inthe _Times_ of the marriage of Sir Digby Auld and--heigh-ho! Gerty; thatthen I shall have to leave my pretty paradise, and that the flamingsword of honour will forbid my ever entering there again. But till then,Tom, till then. Bother it all, man, you wouldn't have a fellow makehimself miserable all his life, simply because he knows he has got to goto Davy Jones' locker at the finish?"
"Oh no," said Tom, gravely.
"Well, then, brother mine, I mean to live in my fool's paradise as longas ever I can, and when the end comes I'll flit."
"Tom," he continued, after a pause of about a minute, "on board the old_Ocean Pride_ I once told you the story of my love for Gerty; and I toldyou also all I knew about dear father's difficulties. We both know nowhow complete daddy's financial ruin is, but I have never yet told youthe true story of Gerty's engagement to Sir Digby Auld. I'll tell younow, and you won't think so hard of the poor girl when I have finished."
Jack Mackenzie spoke for fully a quarter of an hour withoutintermission, ending with these words: "So you see, brother, the deargirl is positively immolating herself on the altar of filial love, andwhat she considers duty. She loves the old man Keane surely more dearlythan daughter has any right to love a father; and her main ambition andobject in life is to see the lonely man happy and respected in his oldage. So, dear Tom, don't bid me leave my fool's paradise yet a while.You have _your_ happiness; I--"
He paused, and sighed a weary kind of sigh.
Tom was touched to the very bottom of his heart. He stretched his armacross the walnuts and grasped his friend's hand.
"Poor Jack!" he said. "Live in your paradise and be happy. Would that Icould give you hopes that your lease will be a very long one."
"Besides," continued Jack, excusing himself a little more, "with a lightheart I shall be able to drub the French more cheerfully."
Tom's eyes sparkled.
"Ah yes!" he said; "and for the very same reason I too feel in thefinest of form for drubbing the French."
"And we've had no single-ship action with the Dons yet."
"Their time is coming."
"Yes, their time is coming. A man never swings a sword half so well, norsails and fights a ship so well, as when he is in love and happy:
'For mickle lighter is the boat When love bears up the creel.'"